


dangling in limbo

by ratcrimes



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, but like the wrong sex toys, make sure to get a flared base kids, sex accidents that work out for the better ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratcrimes/pseuds/ratcrimes
Summary: EJ closes his eyes for a second. “You know, if you wanted my attention there are easier ways to get it.”“What are they?” Sam snaps back. “Because I have tried for years, and this is the first way that worked.”
Relationships: Samuel Girard/Erik Johnson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 285





	dangling in limbo

**Author's Note:**

> you ever hit a brick wall writing fic with like, actual plot and shit, and then 3k words of porno based on a stupid concept leaps fully-formed out of your head and onto the page? yeah.
> 
> i haven't written for the avs before so please forgive any glaring inaccuracies.
> 
> title is from "by your hand" by los campesinos!

Someone is pounding on EJ’s hotel room door.

He’s had a long fucking day—plane in the morning, then playing their third game in four days, then _losing _the game in OT. Some of the guys are going out but EJ just wants to sleep. If his visitor is yet another rookie asking him for condoms, they’re getting fined a whole games’ worth of salary.

When EJ opens the door it’s to see Sam, flushed and disheveled. His shirt looks like it’s on backwards, and he’s bouncing a little on his toes, jittery in a way he rarely ever gets. And there’s a really obvious tent in his sweatpants. EJ sighs and rubs his eyes. Sam’s not technically a rookie anymore, but he’s _EJ’s _rookie. “G—”

“You need to take me to the ER,” Sam says. His voice is low and really French, the way it gets when he’s worked up, and it takes EJ a minute to parse the words.

“Are you okay?” he blurts out. EJ doesn’t see any blood, and Sam’s standing fine, doesn’t seem to be holding any limbs weirdly. EJ grabs Sam’s shoulder, and his fingertips dig into tense muscle as he leans closer. “What the fuck, did you take something?” Sam’s eyes are dilated but he doesn’t look _drugged_—

Sam shakes his head furiously. “No, I just need—Please.” He’s been worrying at his lower lip, turning it red.

“Not unless you tell me what’s wrong, I don’t care if it’s—”

With a hand on EJ’s chest Sam shoves him back into the hotel room. It probably shouldn’t be hot. Sam shuts the door behind them, takes a deep breath, and says, “I got a vibrator stuck up my ass.”

The hotel room is a dark little insulated bubble of silence compared to the hallway, and when they both stop talking EJ can hear something buzzing.

“Oh,” says EJ. Now is the part where he should probably come up with a chirp. Or a fine. Not like it’s difficult to make fun of someone for this. If it were Tyson—

This is definitely not Tyson. He doesn’t really want to think about Tyson right now.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Sam arching off the bed as he works a vibrator into his ass either, but the image is stuck in EJ’s mind, vibrant and obscene like an adult toy store billboard.

“So can you please just help me get to the ER, and _not tell anyone_—”

“I can help you.” Sam is quiet for a moment. EJ swallows. He wishes he’d turned the light on before he went to the door; it’d be nice to see Sam’s face right now, if he’s freaked out by the offer or just considering in his quiet Sammy way. But he doesn’t really want Sam to see his face right now. He’s got no idea what he looks like. “I mean, I’ve got lube. If I can’t get it out, we go to the ER.”

His eyes have adjusted enough to the dark to make out Sam’s short nod. “If you don’t, ah, mind.”

A laugh bubbles out of EJ’s chest, a little hysterical. No, he wouldn’t _mind. _What the hell else are chums for. He hooks his arm around Sam’s shoulders before he can think better of it, keeps their hips carefully apart even as he kisses the sweaty curls at Sam’s temple. It’s weird to just touch him now, knowing what they’re going to be doing in a few minutes, but it would feel weirder _not _to touch him. “Okay. Get on the bed.”

Sam shudders and bolts out of EJ’s hold.

Well. Okay then.

From the corner of his eye he can see Sam smoothing the covers back up as EJ flicks on the lamp. He digs in his suitcase for the lube, ignores the sound of rustling cloth as best as he can, and when he turns around Sam’s laying bare-assed on top of the bed. On his stomach, with his face hidden by his arms.

EJ allows himself one moment of guilt at the knowledge that he’s definitely going to jerk off about this later. He doesn’t let himself palm his dick. It would be nice if he were wearing anything other than boxers, but it’d be pretty conspicuous if he put pants on now.

“Okay,” he says, and pats the back of Sam’s thigh, just above his knee. Sam spreads his legs a little, accommodating, and EJ can’t think about that right now either. So he just kneels between them. “Can you just—say something, Sammy, you’re freaking me out here.” He flicks the cap on the bottle of lube, spreads some on his fingers.

“_You’re _freaking out?” Sam snaps, and turns around just enough to raise an eyebrow at him. The back of his neck is red where it disappears into the collar of his shirt. “You are not the one about to get finger-blasted—”

EJ snorts. “Who taught you that word?”

“_You._”

EJ grins and sticks his tongue out from his tooth gap. Sam laughs, and he’s still tense but it’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than charged silence. “Alright, well. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” He spreads Sam’s cheeks as best as he can with one hand and presses his finger against Sam’s rim. It’s already stretched out and wet, of course. Lubing himself up might’ve been overkill. The buzz of the vibe travels through Sammy’s skin enough that EJ can feel it against his finger without even touching the thing. It doesn’t seem like much—just enough to annoy, to tease. Sam makes a tiny, helpless noise, and turns to stifle it in the pillow.

EJ takes a deep breath, counts to three until the urge to talk dirty temporarily recedes. He’s not _actually _finger-fucking Sam right now, no matter what his dick has to say about it. This is just—an emergency medical procedure. Yeah.

The blunt end of the vibrator is just a couple inches in, but he’ll need to get two or maybe three fingers in to actually _grab _it. That’s going to be the hard part.

“Should’ve brought some tongs or something,” EJ says before he can think better of it.

“Kinky,” Sam says. His voice is strained.

EJ breezes right past that one. “So I’ve gotta open you up some more.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Tell me if it’s—”

“Just _do _it, Erik,” Sam snaps, and EJ slides two fingers into him. They go in easily, and when EJ scissors them, Sam chokes and grinds his hips against the bedspread. EJ’s been trying not to look at his cock but it’s impossible not to notice, now, that he’s hard. EJ’s never seen Sam hard before.

EJ counts to three again, works Sam open more. Sam’s thighs are trembling. EJ wraps his free hand around one, strokes his thumb right under the curve of Sam’s ass before he can think better of it. “You could get off, if that would make this easier,” EJ says. His voice stays steady. He deserves a trophy for that, probably.

“First you,” Sam snaps.

EJ’s fingers brush up against the vibrator again and he must knock it just right because Sam gasps and arches into EJ’s fingers. He has to pull back so he doesn’t end up shoving the vibrator deeper in. “Yeah, that’s not—” His voice is too high. EJ tries again, before he can think better of it. “That’s not gonna be difficult, Sammy.”

Sam pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Really?”

EJ shrugs, mouth dry. Sam already kind of seems to want to burrow into the earth. But at least he’s looking at EJ now, and he doesn’t seem pissed. “Yeah, I mean. This isn’t _exactly _how I pictured things going, but—” He doesn’t want to make it _worse, _doesn’t know if Sam would be more weirded out by how much EJ wants to hold his hand or how pretty EJ thinks Sam would look on his dick.

One of those wants is a little more pressing than the other right now, but hey.

“I thought,” Sam starts, and EJ slides his fingers out completely as Sam rolls onto his side, “I would at least get to kiss you first.”

“Oh,” EJ says, and Sam just looks at him, big dark eyes wary and hopeful at once, and EJ lurches forward.

It is not the most coordinated kiss of EJ’s life. It is, perhaps, one of the least coordinated. Sam’s mouth meets his in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, and EJ half-collapses onto him, barely catching himself on his un-lubed hand. Sam curls his fingers around the back of EJ’s neck and grinds up into him, the head of his cock leaving a damp trail against EJ’s stomach, the waistband of his boxers. EJ pulls back, trails kisses down Sam’s jaw, the delicate line of his throat—

“EJ. Erik,” Sam pants, and EJ hums against his skin. “I still have a vibrator stuck in my ass.”

EJ closes his eyes for a second, and then pushes up onto his elbows. Sam’s still red, and his grin is sheepish but it’s still there and he’s splayed loose under EJ. So much better than the tense mortification he’d been carrying around. “You know, Sammy, if you wanted my attention there are easier ways to get it.”

“What are they?” Sam snaps back. “Because I have tried for years, and this is the first way that worked.”

Well that’s just—it takes a lot of effort to keep himself from saying something ridiculously sappy like _you’ve had my attention since day one. _EJ kisses Sam to stave the urge off. Then he sits up on his knees, palms himself through his boxers and doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt with the way Sam’s watching him.

“Turn back over,” EJ says, “and hold yourself open.”

Sam follows orders so quickly he nearly kicks EJ, which, they’re going to have to look into that more later. EJ adds a little more lube just to be safe even though Sam’s practically dripping. Then he braces one hand on the small of Sam’s back, holding him steady, and eases two fingers into him again. He has to stretch them apart to hook his fingertips around the still-buzzing vibrator, but he does it, and Sam makes a small noise into the pillow.

Normally EJ doesn’t mind if his partners are quiet—big porno moans just crack him up, usually—but he could use some feedback here. Sam’s hole flutters where it’s stretched wide against EJ’s fingers, and Sam’s fingertips are digging into his own ass so hard it’s leaving little white spots. He’s got no idea how much experience Sam has, and he’s so _small._ “You good, Sammy?”

Sam says something in French that EJ just barely recognizes as _yes, _breathing hard, arched up so only his forehead is still resting against the pillow. “Do not fuck up,” Sam says, and then French again, and then, “Do not want to go to the ER before you touch my dick.”

EJ swallows. “Gotcha,” he says, and pulls.

After all that, the vibrator comes out surprisingly easily. It’s slender and tapered, grooves spiraling up through the black silicone, definitely not meant to go in anyone’s ass. Sam’s hips buck up when EJ’s fingertips pop out past his rim, his hole staying open for a heart-stopping second before it clenches back down, and then enough of the vibrator is sticking out for EJ to get a real grip on it. He eases the last few inches of the vibe out. Sam lets go of his ass, flopping onto the bed in obvious relief.

EJ fiddles with the base of the vibe until the buzzing stops. Then he leans forward to kiss the back of Sam’s neck, and tries not to obviously grind down on him. He’s been ignoring his dick as best as he can but there’s still a wet spot on his boxers. Sam has no such compunctions; he half-rolls over and tries to capture EJ’s mouth with his.

“Hold on,” EJ says, and wiggles the vibrator. “Gotta put this in the sink, I’ll be back.”

Sam makes a disgusted noise but lets him go.

EJ nearly runs to the bathroom, drops the vibrator in the sink and washes off his lubed-up fingers as fast as he can. When he gets back Sam’s shed his shirt and rolled onto his back, watching the bathroom door, jerking himself off almost lazily.

“Hey, hey,” EJ says, shucks his boxers and straddles Sam, gets a smirk for his trouble. “Don’t get started without me.”

Sam snorts. “You’ve been doing all the work. Come here.” And he pulls EJ down with a hand on the back of his neck. They kiss for a minute and then Sam wriggles down, reaches for EJ’s cock until he can line them up in his hand, smearing precome down both of their shafts as he jacks them off.

EJ just watches at first. Braces himself with his elbows on the mattress and looks down the long slender planes of Sam’s body, the flushed heads of their cocks in his fist, the ripple of ink on Sam’s forearm as he works them. Sam’s hand isn’t quite big enough to wrap around them both. EJ’s is, though. He leans onto his arm with the less-fucked-up shoulder and reaches the other hand between them, twines his fingers with Sam’s.

Sam whines softly in approval and bucks up just enough to press his mouth against EJ’s neck, scrapes the skin with his teeth. “Yeah,” EJ says, as Sam’s grip tightens under his. “Yeah, just like that—” And Sam comes, spurting over both their knuckles, EJ’s cock, dripping onto his stomach. Sam groans low in his throat, the loudest sound he’s made all night, and EJ presses his mouth against Sam’s hair, says something senseless, _fuck Sammy fuck like that, _and then he’s coming too.

EJ has just enough presence of mind not to collapse on top of Sam. He rolls to the side instead and tries to catch his breath. Sam’s eyes stay closed for a second; he looks worn out, chest heaving, unfairly pretty with his dark curls and dark eyelashes and flushed cheeks. Almost cherubic, if cherubs had scraggly mustaches and cum striping their stomachs.

Something weird twists in EJ’s gut. It’s not like he’s ever repressed the fact that he wants Sam—he’s too old for that—he just didn’t think he’d actually get to _have _him.

“So.” Sam’s eyes flicker back open like they’d really rather not. EJ grins at him a little. “Ever heard of a flared base, Sammy?”

“Oh, _god,_” Sam laughs. He nearly covers his eyes with one hand, realizes there’s still cum dripping from it, and quickly wipes it off on EJ’s duvet. EJ’s not even going to pretend to protest, there, but they’ll have to tip housekeeping extra tomorrow. “It was a—gag?—present, and it worked fine before today anyway.”

“You’re making that NHL money now, get better sex toys,” EJ says, and shrugs. “Hell, I’ve got some you can try when we get home.”

Sam _hmm_s, considering, and props himself up on his elbow so he can lean over EJ. “I’d rather you fuck me next time, though.”

Well, it’s not _such _a hardship. EJ arches up a little to kiss him. “I can do that.”

“And go to sleep now,” Sam adds.

“I can do that too,” EJ says, and flicks off the lamp.

**Author's Note:**

> as always: comments and kudos are appreciated.


End file.
